It's That Vulcan Thing
by The Nth Degree
Summary: Lon Suder had cautiously responded, '...where you grab someone's head...' to Lieutenant Tuvok about a Mind Meld. But now that it's done, he's ready to face his demons and die for his actions.
1. The Mantra:

**Author's Note**: Well, I reworded a part of this chapter, because I finished the final chapter yesterday and this chapter was just bugging me. I couldn't just leave it, so I added a copuple of things. I'm fairly pleased with it, now. So here's the (slightly revised version). Chapter 3 will be up later today, since I have to get it off of my laptop (laptop my electronic FicPad).

And, as always...

I'm not Paramount, nor do I own any part of Star Trek (except for my Data action figure and my collector's edition DVDs...hopefully soon the Time Travel Fan Collection too!). If I did, well, Lon Suder wouldn't be dead. Enough said.

* * *

The demons inside him were screaming because they were dying. 

Lon Suder closed his eyes towards the sounds of pain and anguish in his head; the sounds of the death of his violence. He placed his hands together and leaned back on the bench in the brig, so that his shoulders and back of his head touched the wall, cold and black – just like his eyes. He could see the light; the day when he would finally be free of the violence plaguing him.

He _saw_ the demons in his head. They were floating there, screaming in their dying throes, but they were still clinging on, finding ways to whisper to him. Messages that promoted suffering and torment; of violence. Violence _was_ oddly attractive, as he had said to Lieutenant Tuvok.

Violence made him God.

He willed his mind to further suppress the violent impulses in his mind, causing them to scream louder. He was calm. He was always calm, even when being coerced by his violence. He seriously doubted, even without the violence, that he would be able to recognize his emotions and comprehend them. The sound of the demons screeching their protest made his concentration falter. He opened his expressionless eyes a slit, and suddenly, he was _there_.

_It was engineering, 2 days prior. He was, as he said, working on a fuel consumption report for Lieutenant Torres. His fingers moved over the console skilfully as he did his duty to the ship. He watched the diagnostic complete its first stage and quietly recorded it, like he was supposed to do._

_It was 2200 hours, and he wouldn't deny he was tired. They were at him again. He leaned back in his chair as he swept his eyes around the unusually empty engineering. He heard the soft whisper of the main engineering door open, so he turned his body back to it, eyeing it, almost suspiciously._

_Frank Darwin had come in, walking to his station dutifully. He locked eyes with Suder's and a flicker of something appeared in them before he suppressed it and forced a nod towards Suder._

_Lon glared at him in return before turning back to his console. It was that same look that almost everybody gave him: Scathing, mocking and disapproving. He had gotten it a lot. But this one…it was different, just as it had been the other time…_

_Suder paused as he felt a spark in his mind and the rush of feelings and adrenaline that came with it. Throwing an almost casual glance over his shoulder, locking his jaw firmly in place, he came to his decision:_

_He knew he had to kill him. And that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. He felt nothing but violence._

_He glanced around carefully, still keeping a emotionless eye on his diagnostic, which was just getting ready to complete phase two. His eye caught a large coil spanner, which he had taken out of an EPS conduit at the instruction of Lieutenant Torres, since it was giving them problems._

_It was perfect._

_He grabbed it from the workstation beside him and gripped it firmly in his hand, feeling the weight match the pure exhilaration that was racing through his blood. He could thank his demons for that._

_He quietly stood up, the two kilo weapon held tightly in his curled left hand. He placed it behind his back and stepped away from the diagnostic, which he knew, in a minute or so, would log off if he didn't input the next set of variables. But that was of little importance._

_Quietly, he began to step down the small set of stairs from the workstations on the left side of the room to the main engineering floor, where he surveyed the warp core, its cyan light being absorbed into his eyes and being reflected off of it, the subsequent colour making his eyes look Andorian blue._

_He took a small second to admire the force of power that was the warp core, until he realized that he simply couldn't wait any longer – the impulse was on him and at this point, he couldn't get rid of it until it was purged forcefully._

_Oh the exhilaration!_

_He walked up to Crewman Darwin, who was pressing buttons at the impulse system controls. Probably something Torres asked him to do, Lon thought, his face neutral as he stood behind him, the coil spanner becoming surprisingly light._

_He always felt like this when he was about to commit an act of violence – his impulses and demons seemed to give him some kind of enhancements when it came to doing his task._

_For minutes, he stood there, quietly observing the unsuspecting crewman as he was doing his work, which looked like a diagnostic on impulse speed through heavy materials._

_He raised the coil spanner up with his left hand so that it was parallel with his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes and felt his mind pulsing with all of the power of God._

_"Never will you look at me again," he had murmured, not loud enough for Darwin to hear him._

_He swung the spanner down with all of his might, and as it came into contact with the back of Darwin's skull, there was a sickening thud that drowned out the noise of the constantly humming warp core, which was an unbelievable accomplishment, even for a nanosecond. The sound seemed to ring throughout engineering as Frank slid to the ground from the seat, his cerebellum crushed by the impact of the weapon._

_Slightly smiling, Lon quickly bent down and caught Darwin's head before it touched the grated floor of Engineering. He felt a slight warmness on his fingers and on his palm as he tilted the head of the ex-colleague up slightly. Lon glanced at his right hand quickly and noticed only a small amount of blood seeping down his fingers and landing in his palm…it wasn't as much as he had suspected. It pleased him, since he was expecting to need to do a major cleanup._

_Propping up the crewman's back with his knee, Suder placed the coil spanner on the workstation where Darwin was working. With both hands free, even though the right one had a pool of blood in the middle of his palm, he managed to slide around, grabbing Darwin's neck with his left hand and placing his right arm under his knees, successfully lifting him up._

_Grimacing under the strain, Suder's turbulent eyes flashed wildly around engineering, looking for an appropriate spot to hide the body so that he wouldn't be found for a while. He felt his knees buckle under the weight of the murdered – he stumbled around the containment of the warp core and felt his right arm give out, letting the deceased's legs fall. Grimicing with pain, Lon moved swiftly and grabbed both arms of Darwin and pulled him to the other side of the warp core, out of view from the main door._

_Dropping him, Suder looked around some more, when he saw the perfect hiding place – it was like a morgue in engineering:_

_The EPS conduit that he had taken the coil spanner from._

_Bending over, he picked up his cargo's arms and dragged him to the conduit. Seeing that it was still ajar from the time that he taken his impromptu weapon out, he opened it to its widest and glanced inside. It was one of the smaller tubes that connected off of the set of Jeffries Tubes that ran through deck 11. As long as he was careful, Darwin wouldn't be found for days – maybe even weeks._

_Lifting him up again, his right arm with regained strength, he placed the crewman feet first into the tube before sliding the rest of him in._

_Unfortunately for him, as he didn't see, one of the EPS taps inside of the conduits was knocked ajar by the corpse's foot, which would later cause his discovery._

_Lon closed the conduit's door and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. It was silent in engineering, but he still heard noise:_

_The demons were cheering._

_Wearily, both mentally and physically drained, but still pleased that the violent feelings had left as soon as they came, he walked over to where he had put the coil spanner. Glancing at its cylindrical surface, he picked it up with both hands and just stared at it._

_He knew the perfect place to hide it, where no one would find it._

Lon breathed heavily as the memory came rushing back to him. His demons had stopped their shrieking as they revelled with him in the memory. His concentration was severed. He stood up slowly, his azure Starfleet Uniform straightening out from his original position of being sprawled in the seat, causing an alarmed glance from the security officer – Ayala. Suder glanced at him quietly, tilting his head slightly.

"Where is Lieutenant Tuvok?" he asked serenely, his hands behind his back.

"I…I don't know," Ayala answered, looking at the prisoner in the brig warily.

Suder nodded in understanding, "I see." He paused, glancing at the Lieutenant keeping diligent guard in front of him, "He will return," he added, retreating back to his seat, closing his emotionless eyes again.

The silence that had been awarded to him after the Meld, the silence that the demons couldn't capitalize on, letting him lock them away, had been a gift. That Vulcan thing…it gave him so much perspective, as he had mentioned to the Lieutenant.

_"It's like I can observe the violence without letting it get too close."_

His breathing slowed as he began to concentrate again, not shaken by his visit to his memory. Although it was a place he would never like to visit again in the future, he felt calmed by reliving it in the past.

The demons started screaming again as he started targeting his violent feelings again.

They were still dying.


	2. My Mind to Your Mind

Author's Note: Chapter 2 is way overdue, I think. Anyways, yeah. This is in between his second and last conversations with Tuvok during Meld. As was the first one, technically. I'm not pleased with the consistancy of this chapter, but I think I've done the best I can without spending months on it. (By the way...the story of him saving Ayala, so totally my idea so freak out at me if it's stupid XD) Which reminds me, cause I forgot to do it at the beginning, the obligitory legal stuffness:

I'm not Paramount. Nor do I wish to be. Cause 1 person being a company is too insane. So therefore, I don't own these characters or the plots or the other stuffness, even as much as I would love to. I just play fanfic!puppet master. :)

Anyhoo. Oh yes. Still don't have a beta cause noone still knows enough about Suder or Star Trek in general to be objective, so that's probably why it's not good. So enjoy! (if you can)

* * *

Lon quietly sat in the brig, his eyes never blinking. He was, for once, completely in control of his feelings – including the violent ones. He could hear a sort of silent buzzing in his head where he normally heard his darker thoughts yelling at him. 

It was in some ways, disconcerting. It was as if he was losing a piece of himself that he had known ever since he could remember – like losing an old friend.

He frowned. He wanted to get rid of the violence so badly, but now that it was leaving him, he was having second doubts. He set his mouth into a grim line, still not blinking, and pushed himself to get rid of those ideas – he needed to get away from whom he was. From the violent monster.

The Meld helped him do that. The Meld made it so much easier…he could see that Tuvok was struggling with something that nobody but himself and the Vulcan could now understand, but he still couldn't feel any great amount of remorse; any regret for the transfer. For he had gained something much more valuable than the Lieutenant: he had gained self-control. And for that, he would be forever grateful…forever indebted to Tuvok and the Meld.

He stood up slowly from his sitting position, his hands sliding down his thighs before curling up. Lon glanced out of the invisible force field holding him in his cell, looking at Ayala, who was still on duty, closely. He shifted his eyes back to the cell, and placing his hands behind his back, he began to slowly pace the length of the cramped brig.

He quietly thought back to his conversation with Tuvok earlier in the afternoon – or was it that morning? All time was lost to him, so it hardly mattered. He only remembered the unsuppressed glint in the Vulcan's eye, and the understanding look in his own.

_"It's…attractive, isn't it?" he had said, calmly._

_"Attractive?"_

_"Violence," he had urged._

_"On the contrary," the Vulcan looked away, "I find it disturbing."_

_Lon had nodded, "You're right, it is disturbing. Never knowing when that impulse will come, or whether or not you can control it when it does. You live on the edge of every moment…and yet, in its own way, violence is attractive, too. Perhaps it's because it doesn't require logic – that's why it's so liberating._

_"Ironic, isn't it? That I can share with you, of all people, what I have hidden from everyone, all my life."_

He then asked to Meld again. He frowned as he remembered Tuvok's reaction; it was cold and distant.

Perhaps he couldn't take what Suder had learned to embrace. Not a lot of people would be able to stand it – living on the edge of a moment, not being able to get out of it until you were forced to bow to your mind's wishes.

A flicker of doubt went through his mind as he continued pacing, gathering a slight amount of speed. He dug his left hand fingernails into his right hand, and with a sharp prick of pain, the doubt was gone. He had never felt like this, so calm and so still, never in his life – and he still had doubts about it.

What was _wrong_ with him?

He narrowed his cold eyes, which still hadn't blinked, as he gazed down at the brig floor. It was unmoving, just like him. Unfeeling.

_Perhaps_, he thought to himself quietly, _Once I can control my demons, I control the rest of my emotions…I can know what I'm feeling._

He felt eyes analyzing him, so he abruptly brought his head up to stare at the perpetrator – Ayala, who was staring back at him with something different in his eyes. Not the scorn or ire that Starfleet looked at him with, but with something else…

A gaze that held memory of the time that Lon had saved him from a Cardassian commander by puncturing his neck twice with a dagger, then snapping it so quickly that the alien never got time to scream.

Suder quietly analyzed that memory, remembering the invigorating rush that had taken a hold of him. How he had wanted to stop, but couldn't, because the demons were screaming at him. And once they started, they would never stop.

He finally decided to sit back down on the brig bench, putting his head in his hands. He remembered all the Cardassians he had killed, and how good it made him feel; how powerful. But oh, so out of control.

"Ayala," he said, his voice slightly muffled by his hands, "Why did this happen?"

"Excuse me?" Ayala narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the deranged Betazoid.

"The Meld," Lon frowned, looking up, the cool air of the brig assaulting his face. "Why was it offered to me? I feel so unbelievable, and yet so out of place."

"You needed help, Lon."

"I realize that," he responded neutrally. He stood up, carefully walking to the front of his containment, "I don't feel like myself, but I like this new me.

"I'm without something I've known for a long time."

Ayala sighed, brushing a hand through his hair, "We're not in the Alpha Quadrant – you can't take out all of your vicious rage on Cardassians anymore! We all knew that you had an ulterior motive for wanting to fight them, we just never knew what it was."

"Until I came aboard here…until I murdered Darwin," Lon shifted his head slightly, "I couldn't disregard the demons inside of me," he finished with the slightest hint of a smirk.

At Ayala's silence, his mouth twitched back to its normal neutral look. "I feel like a Vulcan; so centred, so controlled. What they have done over a span of centuries, I have managed to do in only a few minutes, thanks to that Meld. My demons are hidden away now, but they're still lurking in the shadows."

He paused, turning his back to the guard, "Waiting for an opportunity to come back. For the Meld to fail."

Ayala didn't respond once again, and this time, Lon left him in silence, instead of verbally musing, his calm mind began churning, remembering something he had said:

_I've thought about it, a lot. In a way, a mind meld is almost an act of violence, isn't it?_

He frowned to himself once again as he sat down. Perhaps the Vulcans never truly got rid of their violence. It came to the surface during a Meld…he _had_ thought about it a lot. There was nothing more to do in the brig than think.

Perhaps while suppressing his own demons, he had gained new ones. Ones that would just sit, biding their time and waiting for the right time to strike; to punish him for his actions. He pushed the thought desperately out of his head, but found that it stayed with him.

His own demons were still there, deep below the glassy surface of his mind. The Meld also helped him hear the rational part of his mind for once. It was telling him of his sins in blistering detail. He knew he deserved to die for his actions – and he was ready for it. In an odd way, he wanted it; he wanted to be free from this troubling life. He leaned back against the wall as he remembered that the Federation doesn't execute people.

Perhaps he could convince Tuvok to Meld with him again…the Demon-ridden Tuvok that would have a slight chance to lose control and make the Med fatal.

Then perhaps he could keep feeling this way right up until the time that it was over.

_Violence to punish the violent_, he thought to himself, calmly. And in a twisted way, he found that quite humerous.

He finally blinked, dropping into the soothing blackness that was Vulcan meditation.


	3. My Thoughts to Your Thoughts

**Author's Note**: Here it is. It's done. Finally. As you'll probably realize, this is essentially the final scene with Suder in it from Meld. It's just a favourite scene and I figured it was an ok way to end it on...mainly cause I don't know what I would do otherwise...I suppose I could have continued on throughout Basics pt 2, however I dunno what I dculd have done though. So, I might as well just end it here. Thanks for reading everyone :)

- Nth Degree

**

* * *

My Thoughts to Your Thoughts**

Lon quietly had his eyes closed, concentrating on glancing at his inward violence emotions. It was a turbulent, churning sea, and he was on the top, safe from the storm and the lashing winds that came from the deep, violent clouds of his emotions. It was, however, contained within the confines of the Vulcan suppression; it didn't spread throughout him like he was accustomed to.

The fire through the veins of the demon.

A noise aroused him from his calm state. His eyes bolted open and they slightly narrowed. Though he was Betazoid, Lon could never tell the emotions of other people; hell, he couldn't find out his own emotions, most of the time, but even so, he had an innate impulse when things were wrong. It had been suppressed with all of his vengeful feelings, but it sprung to the surface, telling him something was out of the ordinary.

"Tuvok?" he called nervously, standing up quickly.

Suder walked to the front of the brig, stopping just inches away from the force field holding him in to his prison. In an ironic way, he thought, it was also keeping his past out. Did he even want to be released…? Not unless he was dead, he never deserved to be released.

He watched as Tuvok came around from the door to the brig, standing over the violently knocked unconscious Ensign Ayala. Lon looked at his unconscious comrade on the floor and couldn't help but glance wide-eyed at what he – what his demons - did to Tuvok.

Lon looked, almost sympathetically, at Tuvok "I wondered what happened to you. They wouldn't tell me anything."

"There were some…complications from the Meld." Tuvok looked at Lon with a dangerous gleam in his eye, also walking to the barrier of the brig.

Lon nodded quietly, "I wondered about that."

"I have been undergoing neuro synaptic therapy in sickbay."

Lon nodded again, "It didn't work?"

Yet before the words came out of Tuvok's mouth, Lon knew the answer, and it wasn't from the telepathy that he had; as all Betazoids had. It was the feeling that he had déjà vu, because he kind of was – he had tried the same thing himself, to a massive failure.

"No."

The words came out just like Lon figured they would. He nodded again and placed his hands behind his back, as he was used to. Many questions were swimming through his head, each wading through the clouds, descending into the turbulent seas that were trying to overthrow the barrier that he had managed to suppress. Realization dawned on him as one question rose itself above his feelings.

"Have you come to kill me?" Lon asked, the most obvious and hopeful question running through his head.

Tuvok barely flinched at the blunt question, "To execute you…for your crimes."

Lon nodded again, a little bit pleased with the response. But even so, more questions raised their devilish heads. "To execute me…I see." He paused, the answer unfolding in front of him:

He was his own death.

"And calling that makes it more…comfortable for you?"

"I will take no comfort in this." Tuvok only replied carefully, showing rationality even though he was plagued by Lon's evil feelings.

Tuvok left the other side of the force field and walked over the unconscious form of Ayala to the controls. He was profusely persperating, a result of the lack of self control, Lon mulled over in his head.

"A most logical use of violence to punish the violent." Lon leaned against the side of his cell, carefully taking his thoughts into account. A Mind Meld. Another one. Fatal, if it was out of control.

Tuvok didn't respond, making Suder's thought become more cemented in his mind. He had a lot of time to think these past few days. With a quick buzz, Tuvok disengaged the force field holding Lon in the brig.

Lon quickly stepped out, his first freedom in days? Weeks? Time had no meaning anymore.

"We both know that I am prepared to die, but are you prepared to kill?" He challenged. Suddenly, the barrier for the turbulent seas of his mind was starting to break down. He could hear the demons talk to him. It was very quiet and vague, but it was there. Whispering threats of death for both him and Tuvok.

"It needs to be done!"

"To release your violent impulses?"

Tuvok paused again. "To serve justice." In a voice quite unlike his own.

Lon leaned forward and glared at Tuvok. These feelings which he had grown to detest, but accepted as part of him – at least, until the Meld, were starting to scream at him again. But even so, he still found a way to rise above the chaos in his mind.

"Justice or vengeance? Understand one thing, Tuvok: I can promise you this will not silence your demons." Lon breathed quickly, his dark cold eyes hardened. "If you can't control the violence, the violence controls you.

"Be prepared to yield your entire being to it," He shook his head, his head riddled with experience. "To sacrifice your place in civilized life, for you will never be a part of it, and there is no return."

Tuvok came fast and furious, his hands clamping onto Lon's head. Lon's breath sharply ceased – another Meld! Perhaps now he could be released from the hellspawned demons wrapped around him.

"I. Seek. No. Return." Tuvok replied through gritted teeth, forcing his hands onto the side of Suder's head.

"Of course not, you would not be able to live with yourself – and then we are both to die." Lon surmised quietly, "And that will end the torment!"

The torment of his life.

Tuvok began the mantra to initiate another Meld. And this time, he wasn't paying attention. His thoughts were firmly focused on his exit; on his relief from his pain. He could feel Tuvok's mind join with him again. The demons suppressed with the meditation came out, mixing with the demons that he had given to Tuvok. The sound – the sound was so comforting, but also very disturbing.

Tuvok's mind overpowered his own. He could feel the overbearing presence, searching through his thoughts and his memories, vengefully circulating and threatening to destroy him.

The Fatal Meld.

Tuvok pressed harder as Lon began drowning with the vengeful demons wanting retribution for his suppressing and murder of them. He began to shake as his mind started being completely irradiated by the evil forces of his own construction.

He saw the light. It was a future without violence, without demons screaming out commands that he had to obey. It was white. He turned his head to the ceiling of the brig and realized that his vision was dimming. Darkness was overtaking the light that he so wanted to be a part of. His future could be very different; could be during a time where he could discuss his own emotions, and even other people's.

Sudenly the hands released him and he fell to his knees. Both the darkness and the light disappeared and turned back into the brig ceiling. He turned his head, his eyes full of realization, towards the fallen form of Tuvok.

The demons were silent. Whispering amongst themselves.

He forced himself to crawl over to the fallen Vulcan officer and pressed his commbadge.

"Crewman Suder to the bridge."

"Suder?" a voice rang, "What are you doing with a commbadge?"

"…You better get down here, Chakotay. Tuvok needs help."

The demons were silent; almost in awe as Suder calmly raised Tuvok's head and placed it on his leg. The Vulcan was unconscious, just like Ensign Ayala. He shared a look with his fallen comrade and quietly began to suppress the demons once again.

That Vulcan Thing…it was his salvation, but it was also his curse.

His life but his death.


End file.
